


Negaduck Ruins Christmas & Other Disastrous Holiday Tales

by MissMal



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), Darkwing Duck (Cartoon), Disney Duck Universe
Genre: Cartoon Physics, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Holiday, Negaduck being an arse for 6 straight chapters, Supervillains, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMal/pseuds/MissMal
Summary: Negaduck finds himself alone and stranded in the primeverse during the most cheerful time of the year and decides to make the best (er, worst?) of a bad situation.





	1. Negaduck Learns the True Meaning of Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a duckverse story for the holidays! Negaduck, Darkwing, the Fearsome Four, and co. are all property of Disney. Malicia Macawber is my own abomination. Rated T for duck tiddies (and Nega-narration).

St. Canard was a rather phenomenal city at any time of the year with its dazzling city lights and lively nightlife. But there was especially something to be said about the Christmas season when a fresh blanket of snow coated the otherwise winter-less city, hiding all of its impurities and replacing them with dazzling decorations and seasonal cheer. The ice rink at city hall echoed with sounds of laughter and merriment while the comforting scent of hot cocoa and freshly baked sugar cookies wafted through the streets.

Negaduck hated it.

There was a reason the maniacal mallard of misery outlawed Christmas in the Negaverse many years ago. He had all but forgotten the immense levels of insufferability brought about by good tidings and various other redundant descriptors for happiness. The holidays seemed to have a brainwashing effect on everyone, turning even the most rotten black-hearted thugs into a bunch of Christmas Caroling numbskulls.

All present company excluded, of course.

Through the fractured window of the Fearsome Five’s run-down hideout he could only scowl at the tinsel-covered tree situated across the street. It seemed even The Bad Side of Town was getting in on the festive cheer, albeit a more lowlife edition - judging by the handcuffs and broken glass bottles that substituted for the classier ornaments you’d expect to see in more privileged areas of the city. Negaduck had considered taking a blowtorch to the bedecked abomination, but he could not afford to attract police - or worse, Darkwing Dork - to his front door. Plus he didn’t want to listen to Bushroot’s sniveling any more than he already tolerated (as if such a thing were possible).

Normally Negaduck made a point of taking asylum in the Negaverse as soon as everyone finished trampling each other to death over Black Friday sales (a holiday he _could_ get behind). But this year had seen a few… complications. Much like a post-election politician, interdimensional portals could be incredibly fickle, especially when one needed them the most. And much like that one particularly freaky stripper at the club up the street, Negaduck knew the portal he frequently used was growing more unstable each time he passed through its murky, endless void. It was only a matter of time before it would collapse altogether (the portal, that is. Strippers and politicians were a hardy bunch).

Which it did, right when the first Christmas song had invaded the speakers of retail stores the world over. This was not as hopeless as it sounded (once again referring to the portal, because seasonal retail workers always had reason to abandon all hope). It was common for interdimensional portals to collapse and then later re-open at a different location. Usually it was only a few weeks to a month between portals. On the occasion when Negaduck found himself trapped in Darkwing’s universe or elsewhere for an extended period of time he could easily entertain himself by making everyone around him suffer, whether it be through one of his brilliant criminal schemes or just generalized wrong-doing.

Never one to turn down a challenge, Negaduck decided to view his current predicament as an opportunity to crush everyone’s high spirits. Starting with the destruction of the deeply-cherished Christmas display in St. Canard’s Sitting Duck Park. It was a long-held tradition for citizens to gather up their families on the night before Christmas so they could stroll through a nauseatingly delightful pageantry of holiday cheer.

It was the perfect target for a Fearsome Five take-over.

The corner of his bill tugged with the shadow of a smile as he considered bringing a megaphone so he could cheerfully inform the many bright-eyed children of St. Canard that Santa Claus is dead and Christmas is cancelled. Permanently.  

He was stirred from his fantasy by the voices of the four morons who would be aiding him in tonight's Christmas Eve Conquest. He couldn’t quite make out the topic of discussion that carried their excited chattering all the way to his dark corner of the abandoned building, and frankly he didn’t care. He shot one last resentful glance at the tree outside before skulking downstairs to join the rest of his team.

“I don’t know, you guys... I’m not sure red is really my colour.” That was Bushbrain’s voice, it was easy to recognize that pitch of whininess, even before Negaduck had rounded the corner into the room.

“ _I’d say it suits you, Stu!_ ” Shrilled Quackerjack, or more accurately, Quackerjack and his failed attempt at ventriloquism. Negaduck made a mental note to tear that stupid banana puppet into shreds at a later date.   

“On the bright side, wool hasn’t made me itchy since I traded in feathers for flowers.” Responded the reject cucumber. 

The context for this conversation became all too clear when Negaduck stormed into the room and was met with a most grisly sight - well, more grisly than usual, given they were all a gaggle of freaks even on a regular day. The “red” in question was not blood stains, as Negaduck hoped, but one of four ugly Christmas sweaters to match the four ugly idiots wearing them. Bushroot’s red and white shirt featured a beaker and flask on the front, no doubt to remind the world of his tragic case of nerdiness. Quackerjack, predictably, had all manner of toys emblazoned across the offensively bright pattern of his own knitted outfit, made only worse by the bells sewn onto it which jingled abruptly as the toy maker bounced around the room like a kid at a coke convention. Megavolt’s shirt was definitely the most pathetic (and also explained a few things) given it had ‘Mama’s Genius’ written across the front with a light bulb in place of the ‘i’ in genius. Somehow even the Liquidator had managed to slosh himself into a red and green knit shirt that appeared to have lobster women featured on the front for some undoubtedly stupid reason.

“What.” Negaduck intoned with as much disgust as one could muster. “Are those.”

As soon as the four registered the arrival of their leader they all visibly flinched and straightened themselves, a response that never ceased to amuse Negaduck.

“Oh, hey boss.” Megavolt was the first to greet Negaduck, and did so with the kind of grin that meant something very stupid was about to follow.  

“We were just taking time to appreciate the sweaters Mrs. Sputterspark knitted for us!” Exclaimed Quackerjack far too cheerfully.

Aaaaand there it was.

“Yeah, Megavolt’s mom makes the best homemade gifts.” Added Bushroot who was still trying to get a glimpse of his reflection through a grimy mirror.

“I can see that.” Negaduck responded dryly. “I’m just utterly elated for you losers." He absolutely was not. "Glad to see you've taken the initiative by blending in with the rest of the tacky populace because we’ve got a long night of wrongdoing ahead of us.”

The four exchanged hesitant glances in such a way that made Negaduck’s jaw clench. He knew when they were about to disappoint him immensely.

“Uh, well. See, the thing is...” It was Liquidator who stepped forward - likely because it was harder to shoot the messenger when he’s composed entirely of water. “Four out of five members agree that spending Christmas Eve at the Sputterspark residence will make for a one-hundred-percent guaranteed enjoyable night.”

“Yeah…” Bushroot fidgeted nervously. “We all kind of agreed to having dinner with Megavolt’s family this year. Nana Sputterspark makes the tastiest home-cooked meals!”

"There's no false advertising in that statement!" Agreed Liquidator.

"Uh, can either one of you actually eat the food?" Megavolt scratched his head, which Negaduck was only now noticing seemed devoid of actual ears. 

“Yeah Bushy, how would you know what counts as good food when you snack on manure all day!” Quackerjack shot back.

“The compost she makes is top-notch and that’s good enough for me.” Bushroot folded his leafy arms with indignation.

“I’ll turn you all into compost if you don’t shut up!” Negaduck had brought out his chainsaw by this point and brandished it threateningly in their direction. “The Fearsome Five is going on a Christmas-destroying bender and you're going to damn well like it! You dimwits actually think you have a choice in the matter?”

But much to his surprise and steadily increasing fury, not one of them budged at the gleam of his saw blades. There was a moment of awkward shuffling between the group as all four averted their gaze from Negaduck. Finally it was Quackerjack's turn to step up to bat. "We just really want to visit our families. And none of us want to disappoint Megavolt's mom!"

Why now of all times did they decide to gain a backbone?! 

“You idiots cannot be serious.” Negaduck said incredulously. “Who are you more afraid of? Megavolt’s precious _mommy_ …” He inched the chainsaw closer, his voice dropping into a low growl. “ _Or_ _me_.”

Once again the four looked at each other, then back at Negaduck.

“Megavolt’s mom.” They said in unison.

Negaduck was at a total loss for words. Did they honestly think they could ditch him to enjoy the holiday he was so intent on destroying?

“Sorry Negaduck, it’s nothing personal.” Megavolt continued. “But if it makes you feel any better, Mama made a shirt for you too!”

“What are yo- **hey!** ” Negaduck’s vision instantly darkened as the sweater in question was tugged over his head without warning. Unfortunately the attempt failed halfway as the fabric snagged itself on his sizable (not to mention strong and handsome) bill, leaving both his arms and head trapped inside the woolen monstrosity. He spluttered with rage and obscenities, hopping around blindly until he tripped on what must have been one of Quackerjack’s roller skates, sending him tail-first onto the cold hard concrete.

As he wrestled with the fabric he could barely make out the sound of all four shuffling toward the exit.

“Sorry Boss, Merry Christmas!” Quackerjack shouted hurriedly as they made their escape.

Negaduck’s howl of rage was stifled as he wrestled for freedom from his itchy prison.

“Get back here you-” The door slammed shut.

“- **Cowards!** ”

Complete silence.

“Pah! Like I wanted to waste my time hanging out with those four losers. More destruction for me anyhow.” He said aloud to nobody in particular. With one final tug Negaduck wrenched the sweater free from his head. He could see now that it was knitted with black wool and featured a white skull on the front, which would have almost been acceptable were it not for the red santa hat sitting atop the skull’s head to add an offensively festive touch.

He hurled the sweater away like it was tainted with a contagious disease and became immediately aware of an itching sensation spreading across his face. Snarling and scratching like a wild animal, he felt the small hives forming beneath his feathers, most likely caused by the itchy wool and/or the motherly affection infused within its loving fibers.

“Next time I see those pansies I’m going to garrote them with string lights! Let’s see Megavolt’s mom try that!” He spat furiously as he stood and dusted himself off.

It was in that moment Negaduck found himself completely alone on Christmas Eve, with no friends or family to celebrate. Just him, his chainsaw, and a long night of misery-making ahead.

Just the way he liked it.

 

* * *

 _Author's Note:_  And thus ends the first chapter in what is no doubt destined to be a hot mess of a story. I haven't written an actual fanfic in 2-billion years so I apologize for the rough start. A special thank-you to my pals Icequeenkitty, Nemzit, and Pharaoh-Ink for their feedback and also to Rebellingstagnation because her Geronimo Series inspired me to start writing again! Prepare yourselves for some Negaduck-level shenanigans.  

Also props to Kitty for thinking up the name "Sitting Duck Park" because everybody loves a good pun (and it's way more creative than anything I could come up with). 


	2. Negaduck Learns the True Meaning of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve and Negaduck is ready to launch a full-scale assault on St. Canard's holiday celebration. Will his efforts be rewarded?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How timely that this chapter is rolling out right before Christmas Eve! Thank you to everyone who has read the story and given me feedback so far, I greatly appreciate it. Now let's check in on our favourite masked mallard! (no offense, DW).

As Negaduck had so brilliantly deduced, the St. Canard Traditional Annual Multifaith Pageant of Niceness (or ‘TAMPoN’ for short - someone didn’t think that one through) was in full swing down at Sitting Duck Park. Every year the city’s most iconic central location was transformed into a nightmarish maze of ice sculptures, sparkling ornaments, and several food booths serving all manner of holiday delicacies ranging from hot cocoa and latkes to tamales and beavertails (which much to Negaduck's disappointment did not involve the wholesale slaughter of any real beavers).

“Would you look at all these saps.” Negaduck retched from his perch atop the tallest ice sculpture - which, evidently, appeared to be Gizmoduck battling Krampus. He fished a bottle of aspirin from his pocket and popped a handful of capsules in his mouth. The laughter of innocent wide-eyed children and the blinding glow of Christmas lights made for grade-A migraine fuel.

He raised a pair of binoculars to his masked face and surveyed the area for an ideal target. Perhaps the newlywed couple smooching under the mistletoe? What about that gaggle of children frolicking in the snow? Or maybe the fragile old granny with the bad hip? So many options, so little time to crush all their hopes and dreams.

Clearly, this situation called for a ‘done in one’ deal which just so happened to be Negaduck’s specialty. The holidays were such a significant time of the year, therefore this dazzling display of neer-doing required something a little extra.

Naturally, Negaduck had already set the stage for a dramatically destructive take-down. He chuckled darkly as he retrieved the Big Red Button (™) from within the infinite folds of his jacket, and ran his finger across its smooth metallic surface in a manner more befitting of a fanfic written for a mature target audience.

“Once I push this button.” He said aloud to absolutely no one. “The explosives I’ve attached to these ice sculptures will detonate, sending shards of deadly ice in every direction. But! That’s not all!” It never was. “The excitingly festive and incredibly inclusive display known as the Annual Winter Wonderland Float will be passing by in that very moment, and the shards will pierce the giant inflatable snowduck! Which, by the way, I’ve filled with a deadly combination of fruit cake, figgy pudding, and incredibly fragile christmas ornaments! Which will land right on top of that choir of sad but also incredibly spirited orphans! Now I can crush their spirits figuratively AND literally! **Bahaha!** ” He allowed himself a full minute of maniacal cackling, as one does. Once his conniving mirth died down, he paused to catch his breath.

“ _Man_ this ain’t half as fun when nobody’s around to listen to my ingenious plans.”

No time to dwell on that, however, because he spotted the float nearing its final destination. Perfect timing too, because the orphans had just begun a chorus of _We Wish You a Merry Christmas._

“Merry Christmas to you too, twerps!” He pressed the button.

The explosion was beautiful. Or so Negaduck assumed. Hard to tell because once the ringing in his ears faded away he found himself airborne and sailing straight for the inflatable snowduck.

Oh right. He had also rigged the ice sculpture he was sitting on. Forgot about that minor detail.

No amount of flailing could slow his inevitable collision into his own appropriately thematic death trap but that certainly didn’t stop him from trying. But as luck would have it, the float acted like something akin to a bouncy birthday castle, gently catching him in its giant inflatable snowduck arms.

He exhaled with relief. That was a close call.

Then he heard a popping noise. “Oh right. Deadly shards of ice.”  He muttered.

Rather than deflate slowly like one might expect, the snowduck exploded like a balloon and once again the maniacal mastermind found himself rising into the chilly night sky.

Then gravity took hold and down he went like a falling star, cursing and shouting the entire way.

How fortuitous the snowfall in St. Canard had been plentiful, because the caped crook landed head first into a snow drift with a heavy grunt.

“Hah! It’ll take more than a bit of gravity to defeat the likes of Negad- **GWAH** ” He was pelted by a barrage of fruit cake from above. “Ow. Ow. Owie. Ow. Ow.” Each syllable accompanied by several painful pieces of fruit-filled pastry.

“As I was saying!” He continued mostly-triumphantly. “I, _Negaduck_ , cannot be defeated by mere- **oh god the ornaments**.” A red glass ball shattered against his skull, causing the villain to stumble backward in a daze. He suddenly found himself gliding serenely across the ground, having unwittingly stepped onto the ice rink. Wobbling to and fro, Negaduck tried his damndest to not recreate any iconic movie scenes involving baby deer and their fluffy bunny companions.

“Hey mister, need a push?” A young boy had skated up behind the villain and slid him forward at an increasing speed.

“Get lost you little punk!” Negaduck turned to swat the kid, but the combination of his shifting weight while moving at a breakneck pace sent him toppling over face-first.

“I absolutely utterly completely loathe this holiday” He groaned miserably as he tried to separate his bill from the slick frozen surface he found it attached to.

He took this moment to remind himself that despite the now-herniated disc in his back, he could at least appreciate his own maniacal handiwork. As he trudged back toward Christmas Chaos Ground Zero he could hear the distant shouting of surprised and no-doubt terrified citizens. 

“There he is!” A woman pointed in his direction. “It’s Negaduck! He’s the one responsible!”

“Damn straight I’m responsible!” He strutted into the center of the chaos. “Let it be known that _this-_ ” He motioned to the fruitcake splayed across the pure white landscape like a war-torn battlefield. “-is what I think of your sappy holiday!”

He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination - or the mild concussion he’d just acquired - but he was met with… a round of applause?

“Three cheers for Negaduck!” A crowd had formed around the discombobulated villain, who spun around like a caged animal.

“Wh-”

“He must’ve heard about the Food Bank’s truck overturning on the highway, leaving nothing for the orphans to eat!” Exclaimed a young woman.

“Now wait just a sec-”

“He’s supplied enough food for twice as many orphans! It’s a Christmas miracle!”

“What kind of orphans are subsisting purely on fruitcake?!” Negaduck howled in confusion.

“And he must’ve also heard about the ornament shortage too.” Remarked an elderly man.

“ **Why the hell would there be an ornament shortage?!** ”

“And look!” Gasped a food truck employee, pointing at the surrounding foliage. “The ornaments landed perfectly on the trees and have decorated the entire park! It’s even more beautiful than it was before!”

Negaduck gripped his head in agony. “This can’t be happening.” He moaned. 

“Who knew even a black-hearted villain like Negaduck could learn to understand the true meaning of Christmas!”

He felt a tug on his cape and spun around, only to be met with the bright smile of a dewy-eyed orphan boy and his single crutch.

“God bless you, Mister Negaduck! You’ve saved Christmas!” And then _it_ wrapped its tiny little arms around his waist and hugged the criminal tightly.

“Wha- bu- no! **GAH!** ” With a shriek of horror he managed to squeeze out of the tiny tot’s embrace and turned to leave. But not before crashing into the elderly woman he spied earlier.

The granny let out a startled cry. “Oh! My hip! I think your collision just knocked it back into place! Why thank you, young man! You just saved me another expensive surgery!”

Negaduck ran screaming from the park.

Once he was at a safe, elderly-vacant hug-free distance from the crime scene, he stopped to catch his breath.

“This is ridiculous!” He tugged the brim of his crimson hat in frustration. “What’s a guy gotta do to ruin everyone’s child-like innocence and sense of wonderment?!”

He paused again as a thought occurred to him.

“And whatever happened to the-”

 **_Splat_ **.

“-Pudding.”

As Negaduck felt the sticky substance seep into his turtleneck and down his back, he carefully reconsidered several life choices. Namely 1.) Why he chose to wear an outfit that was dry-clean only and 2.) Why did he not keep any spare costumes on hand and finally, 3.) Why he chose a substance that was now hardening like clay into his feathers due to the below-freezing temperature.

This night could not possibly get any worse.

 

* * *

 _Author's note:_ Sorry for the weaksauce conclusion for this chapter. I kind of just kept... making this all up as I went and it snowballed out of control (much like Negaduck's battered and bruised body). I almost feel sorry for Negs. Keyword: Almost. Stay tuned for the next gripping installment where I continue to fill his life with infinite levels of suffering. 

Fun fact: I went through several different acronyms before settling on TAMPoN for the festival name. This was (unsurprising to any of my friends) the most family-friendly option out of them all. 

I am also aware that Beavertails are not actually a Christmas dessert but I had to throw in a Canadian joke  _somewhere_.


	3. Negaduck Teaches The True Meaning of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rather humiliating (and pudding-filled) defeat, Negaduck retreats to plan his next move... and runs into some unexpected company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, all! (or whatever other holiday you may celebrate). I bring forth yet another chapter of this bizarre story. Strap yourselves in because it only gets worse from here on out.

 “What a load of crock.”

Negaduck glared disdainfully at the warmly lit window display, and watched the electric toy train circle round for the umpteenth time. After the series of unfortunate events that transpired in the park, the villain had dragged his battered, bruised, and pudding-coated body to the downtown shopping district with the hope of finding (read: stealing) a suitable costume replacement. Not because he wanted to remain hidden from any patrolling police or a potential case of mob justice, Hades no. That would be far more preferable compared to his current predicament.

Word quickly spread of Negaduck’s charitable TAMPoN donation (once again referring to the city event, someone definitely got fired for that one) and as a result he found himself endlessly approached by idiots eager to ‘thank’ him for feeding those poor starving orphans. Of course somewhere along the way a game of telephone must have occurred because the story had mutated to include Negaduck’s ‘miracle work’ which conceived all manner of Christmas magic up to and including the cure for both baldness and impotence (he did not appreciate the latter, given it was paired with the phrase ‘healing touch’). Also the orphans were now apparently one-legged terminally ill super-mutant puppies who’d had their faith in life fully restored. The implication of it all made Negaduck feel like _he_ was about to become terminally ill.

He’d managed to scrounge up a plain grey trench coat to throw over top his bright yellow outfit, which thankfully made him inconspicuous to the general populace. One might expect the obvious black mask and crimson fedora to draw some level of attention, but St. Canardians weren’t the brightest bunch even on a good day.

At least now he could plot his next move, free of interruption from any more dimwitted annoying-

“Why, if it isn’t the Grinch himself~”

God. Dammit.

He recognized the unwarranted self-importance buried within the lilt of that voice well before turning to face its equally unwarranted owner. Negaduck sucked the cold winter air through his teeth and spun around.

“What do you want, Malicia.” He replied flatly.

Malicia Macawber. The self-proclaimed “Demon Queen of St. Canard” - with great emphasis on the ‘self-proclaimed’ part because literally nobody other than Malicia used this title. The only lick of accuracy in that descriptor could be found in the ‘demon’ part.  This was reflected in the gnarly claws she sported on her gargantuan feet, and a pair of needle-point fangs protruding from her bill that signaled to the world she was yet another superpowered freak -or some kind of reject vampire cosplayer, it could go both ways really. Her long forked tail was swishing curiously like a hypnotisied cobra and Negaduck found himself wondering how it didn’t get swallowed entirely by that deadly mass she called a butt. Or, by Malicia’s own terminology, her “perfectly sized posterior”.

Malicia hailed from the same freak show family as Dipwing’s failed crook of a girlfriend, Morgana. Negaduck didn’t understand the nuance of whatever weird realm they both crawled from and frankly he didn’t care. What he did know for certain was that Mal was every bit as insufferable as the rest of the general population and therefore couldn’t be all that different.

“I was just on my way to the mall but took a little detour to sample one of these Normal desserts you call a ‘beaver tail’. Did you know there is little to no beaver involved? Fortunately the cinnamon to brown sugar ratio makes up for that small disappointment.” She said reassuringly, just in case this might be a thing that kept Negaduck wide awake at night.

Negaduck held up a hand to pause the interaction. “Wow yeah that’s super interesting. Before we continue this riveting discussion in which I’m forced to listen to your ceaseless stream of consciousness let me just-”

He made an overstated point of retrieving the bottle of aspirin he valued so dearly and downed the entire contents in a single gulp. “Okay, continue.”

His dramatic gesture earned the indignant reaction he was aiming for. “Hmph! You think you’re so funny, don’t you Negaduck?” Bits of beaver pastry went flying as she crossed her arms and pouted at him. “I guess you depleted all your kindness reserves on the mutant orphan puppies.”

That earned _her_ the reaction she was likely aiming for because Negaduck twitched and threw his hands in the air with frustration. “I wasn’t attempting ‘kindness’ or any other adjective that defines being pathetic! I wanted to destroy that detestable display of holiday joy!”

Then his shoulders sagged with defeat. “Things just… didn’t go quite as planned. But that’s just a mere speedbump on the crooked path of evil! I still have plenty time to ruin Christmas.” Negaduck rubbed his hands together with a sinister chuckle.

“You better not!” She warned him by igniting a flame between her fingers. This only served as a bitter reminder that Mal never got the memo about a max limit of one superpower per villain. How was it that he, Negaduck, the most cunning crook of them all, had zero mutant-powered abilities to speak of while this ditz gets to have pyrokinesis _and_ super-strength? What a complete waste (unless it was the super-powered ability to cure impotence… not that he struggled with such an issue, at any rate).

“This is my first time experiencing your city’s ‘detestable display of holiday joy’. We don’t have anything like ‘Chrissmus’ back home.”

“Lucky you.” He muttered.

It certainly explained the outfit, though. Negaduck always suspected that Malicia was impervious to the cold, and this was all but confirmed by her current wardrobe, which was even less suited for below freezing temperatures than his own. The demon duck was wearing her usual form-fitting dress and a pair of incredibly impractical shoes with heels long enough to make the hulking she-beast several unnecessary feet taller. So much so that Negaduck had to crane his head upward to meet her fiery yellow eyes - which, let’s be real, he never made it that far and instead allowed his eyeline to settle on her very ample and very exposed cleavage. Certainly a better sight than the disgustingly cheerful decorations surrounding the two villains, but not even a great set of boobs could save Negaduck from his increasingly sour mood.

The only new thematic addition appeared to be a red scarf draped around her neck which, he noted bitterly, added an unintentional holiday colour scheme against the green of her dress. But more ridiculous than her scantily clad outfit was the santa hat sitting atop her fiery mane of hair. The pathetic piece of fabric seemed to be dangling itself threateningly close to the edge of her thick skull, much like his already worn-out patience.

“I’ll admit there’s still a few details I’m a bit sketchy on.” Malicia prattled on as she tapped her bill thoughtfully. “Do you hammer the fat man to the planks of wood before or after the eight days and nights? I assume after, because then he’ll still be fresh enough for the virgin mother to eat. And when do the airing of grievances and feats of strength take place? Should I perhaps speak to the reindeer familiars?”

Negaduck balked.

“Mal, that is absolutely…” Misguided? Offensive? Sacrilegious? “One hundred percent correct.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. You totally nailed it. Just like Santa to that cross.”

“ _Naturally_. Your Normal celebrations are simple enough that someone as brilliant as moi can comprehend everything rather quickly!”

“Oh, no doubt. But you also forgot about the pasta sculptures we build to honor the Flying Spaghetti monster.” He added to be oh-so-helpful and not at all because he enjoyed dumping more gasoline over this perpetual dumpster fire of chaos.

“A spaghetti monster! Negaduck, how can you possibly hate this holiday, it sounds marvelous!” She clasped her hands together excitedly. “I am especially looking forward to speaking with the God of Material Possessions. That’s why I’m heading to his candy cane temple at the mall, actually. My understanding is that you pay homage by sitting upon his lap while revealing your heart’s most fondest desires, and then he shall make them come true.”

Oh . My. Spaghetti Monster.

“Let me get this straight.” Negaduck massaged his forehead. “You are going to the mall.”

“Yes.”

“You, specifically, are going to sit on Santa’s lap.”

“Correct!”

“Because he is a generous being who will bestow upon you all your material desires.”

“That is exactly what I said, yes.”

“You know us ‘Normals’ have a different name for that, and it’s called a Sugar Daddy.”

“Oh? Is he also made of beaver tail pastry?”

“I-” Try not to laugh, try not to laugh. “-shall accompany you to witness this hot mess- er, I mean, to help you capture this precious moment for all time. You’ll need someone to hold the camera for you, after all.”

“Really?” The flash of excitement on her face immediately faded with suspicion.  “That’s _unusually_ kind of you.”

“What can I say, I am suddenly brimming with Christmas spirit.”

And boy, was he ever. There was no way Negaduck would ever skip out on this level of absurdity. Besides, he could find a way to restore his repulsively rotten reputation while also watching a two-tonne monster woman crush a mall Santa to death. Multi-tasking!

“Well what are we waiting for?” Negaduck urged her forward. “That lap isn’t going to warm itself, it’s begging for your booty on it, pronto!”

“I think you meant my perfect posterior.” She corrected him.

“Yeah gee, how could I possibly forget.”

Because ‘Santa’ sure as heck won’t.

* * *

 _Author's note:_ Ah, there she is, the worst Darkwing Duck OC to traipse across the planet. For those of you who are only encountering Malicia for the first time, feel free to glimpse her [Duckverse Wiki page](http://www.negaverse.net/duckverse-wiki/doku.php/characters/oc/malicia) for more background information. Mal is my creation, and I like to think of her as Negaduck's personal Karma. 

Also, a cookie to whoever can guess how many religious holidays Mal rolled into that one sentence. I've always imagined the winter holidays must be a very confusing time for outsiders given all the mixed messages and symbolism! 


	4. INTERMISSION: Dinner at the Sputtersparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! Let's check in on the boys and see how they're doing...

“Could you pass more of the bite-sized cabbages, please?”

“Quackerjack, _for the last time_ , those are brussel sprouts.”

“Pass the bite-sized brussel sprouts please!”

“Oh… forget it!”

The dinner table at the Sputterspark household was bustling with excitement and the occasional loud chewing noise (once again, a Quackerjack-related infliction). The food sprawled across the beautifully-decorated spread was as diverse as the guests seated in front of it. ‘Diverse’ being a polite word for ‘total cluster of freaks’.

This was not the first time the Fearsome Four had dined with the Sputtersparks and it would not be the last. The initial visit took place a couple years ago when Megavolt had dropped by to pick up an old childhood knick-knack to assist in one scheme or another. The super-powered mutants (and one toymaker) had shuffled awkwardly into the household only to find themselves ushered toward the couch where they were greeted with an assorted cheese platter and a warm smile from Mrs. Sputterspark (better known as “Megavolt’s mom”).

All of them, Megavolt included, had braced for a negative reaction, given that supervillains were generally treated with disdain (and truly, they couldn’t completely hold this against the citizens of St. Canard after all the trouble they caused).  But much to their surprise she welcomed them with open arms and very few questions. “I’m just so glad to see my little Elmo has friends.” She responded sweetly, much to Megavolt’s grumbles of protest.

Dinner at the Sputtersparks had become somewhat of a holiday tradition, and in previous years they worried little about Negaduck’s defiance because the misery-making mallard always made himself scarce around the holidays. But they had not been so lucky this time around, and that knowledge was held over their heads, blanketing the room in a looming sense of dread, despite the warm, inviting atmosphere.

Bushroot was picking at an eggshell from the small mound of compost on his dinner plate. “Maybe if we go back now he’ll forgive us for smothering him with a sweater.”

“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Sputterspark pointed a wooden spoon in the plant-duck’s direction. “You boys deserve a break! The holidays are about spending time with friends and family. Besides, that sweater is a Sheila Sputterspark original. He’ll look nothing but fabulous. Now, who wants more turnips?”

“Oooh me please!” Quackerjack was, without a doubt, the least pickiest eater on the planet. He happily consumed anything put on his plate, up to and including the napkins if he wasn’t paying attention. Which was far too often.

“Bud sweetie, are you sure you don’t want me to shrink-wrap your shirt? I hope it’s not weighing you down too much.” Mrs. Sputterspark fussed over the soggy material that somehow managed to cling to the dog’s watery form.

But Liquidator merely saluted her with a charming grin. “Nothing weighs down the likes of Bud Flood, m’am! By the way, this cider is splendid.”

“Yeah, too bad it makes you look like the shallow end of the kiddie swimming pool.” Remarked Megavolt, which earned him a gentle whap over the head from his mother’s wooden spoon.

“Elmo! Manners!” She scolded him, much to the amusement of his companions.

“Uhhh, guys? You might wanna see this.” Bushroot directed their attention across the table at the television beyond, which had been set to the evening news in preparation for the Christmas parade.

The other three craned their necks to see what he was referring to, and indeed they _did_ want to see this. The ‘this’  being a news headline that read, “ _Public Enemy is Number One…. Christmas Fan_.”

Immediately they crowded around the television to listen in.

“....It seems the notorious villain Negaduck’s heart grew three sizes this day, after supplying all of St. Canard’s terminally-ill orphan children with enough seasonal sweets to last their adorable-yet-also-fleeting lifetime. Footage captured earlier tonight shows a stunning gesture of goodwill that has left several citizens wondering what sparked such compassion from one of St. Canard’s sleaziest…” The reporter droned on, amidst looping footage of Negaduck colliding into the inflatable snow-duck and bringing down a torrent of fruitcakes..

“Wow.” Was the only response Megavolt could muster.

“Five bucks says it was a total blunder.” Bushroot shook his head. “No way Negaduck would do something that nice!”

“Maybe the sweater has mystical mom powers that are making him do nice stuff!” Concluded Quackerjack.

Megavolt shuddered. “He’s going to blame us for his screw-up, you know! If we weren’t already marked for dead before, he’s definitely gonna roast us like a chestnut when he finds us!”

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” Mrs. Sputterpark slapped the spoon against the open palm of her hand. “You just give me two minutes with that boss of yours and I’ll set him straight. Somebody needs to teach that rude boy some manners!”

“ _Moooom!_ You can’t spank Negaduck!”

“Y’know I would kinda-sorta pay to see that.” Said Quackerjack, immediately followed by an “Ow!” as Megavolt elbowed his partner in the ribs.

Mrs. Sputterspark frowned. “I just don’t like how he bullies you poor boys. That is workplace harassment, you know! Have you considered reporting him to upper-management?”

“Uhh… he technically _is_ the upper-management, Mrs. Sputterspark.” Bushroot ran his leafy hands through his purple hair nervously.

“Worry not! The Fearsome Five is the brand that keeps on going! Our lifetime warranty discourages the boss from rebranding.” Added Liquidator.

“That is a valid point.” Nodded Bushroot, who by now was fairly fluent in Liqui-speech.  “As long as we’re still useful to Negaduck, he won’t mash us into mulch. Who’s he gonna replace us with? Lilliput and Jambalaya Jake?”

“Well I say we forget about Neganudnik for the rest of the night.” Concluded Megavolt. “That goose isn’t going to eat itself after all! Er, no offense, Uncle Gander.”

“None taken.” Said the feathered uncle in question who was already carving another slice for himself.

There was unanimous agreement among everyone present that all Nega-related discussion would be tabled for the remainder of the evening. After all, Negaduck never spared them a second thought so why waste any energy fussing about him? Except, of course, to use him as a white card in a round of “Cards Against Canards”. Which, much to Megavolt’s abject horror, was a game his nana was very good at winning.

And who knew? Maybe Negaduck’s heart _did_ , in fact, grow three sizes that day.

But not bloody likely.

 

* * *

 _Author’s note:_ This chapter isn’t super strong because I’m not very good at writing the Four, especially together as a dynamic. Honestly, I wrote this entire thing solely to have someone exclaim, “You can’t spank Negaduck”. _Priorities._


	5. Negaduck Traumatizes Several Small Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negaduck seizes the opportunity to exploit Malicia's cultural misunderstanding of Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to our regularly scheduled Nega-shenanigans! This is definitely the longest chapter by far and one I've looked forward to writing.

The only thing Drake Mallard hated more than Christmas shopping was _last-minute_ Christmas shopping. Somehow that didn’t stop him from his present predicament (no pun intended), as he waded through a sea of legs and shopping bags, dodging the occasional wayward limb that threatened to collide with his large (yet strong and handsome) bill. _Sheesh_ , and he thought comic book conventions had poor crowd control!

His only beacon of hope was found in his sidekick who took the lead, using his bulkier mass to clear the immediate crowd, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Except Moses probably wasn’t double-fisting two chimichangas at a disgustingly swift rate, which meant whatever bits didn’t make their safe journey into his mouth were carried gently with the wind, and then subsequently splattered against his shorter companion’s face.

Drake muttered under his breath as he picked cheese from his feathers. “LP, are we almost near the exit or are you doing that thing again where you forget you have a brain and just lead us around in circles.”

“We’re almost there, DW. But uh, do we have to use the exit with the revolving door? I always get stuck in an endless spin cycle, trapped for what feels like an eternity, forced to reflect on life’s greatest mysteries...”

“LP, you do realize ‘what kind of animal is the pink panther’ is not a mystery, right.”

“Yeah… maybe some things are just better left to the unknown, y’know? Like how does Santa fit all the children’s toys into a single sleigh? How come he doesn’t get stuck in the chimney? D’you think the reindeer are protected under federal labor laws? I hope they have a good union!”

“Gee maybe you should ask him yourself.” Drake snapped sarcastically.

Launchpad stopped short, causing Drake to collide into him. “Hey yeah that’s a great idea! His toy shop is just over there!” Not that Drake could actually see anything. But he knew LP was referring to the local mall santa.

“LP, we don’t have time for this.” Drake was growing more exasperated with every pair of UGH boots he was forced to stare at from his tragic vantage point. “We gotta get everything home and wrapped, seeing as _someone_ decided to open their big mouth and invite his annoying friend to Christmas Eve dinner.”

“Aw but Fenton won’t mind! He and Gos were having a blast trying out that new Whiffleboy multiplayer. Besides, this is our last chance to talk to Santa! He’s in high demand now so everyone’s gotta see him before Christmas morning. Even Malicia and Negaduck are getting in their last-minute wish lists!”

“Yeah well, if we come home to find the house covered in mint-scented silly string that is on yo- wait did you say Malicia and Negaduck?” Drake was already scaling his sidekick’s back, and planted his webbed foot firmly atop Launchpad’s head to steady himself.

Sure enough, there at the front of the line he spied a head of red, orange, yellow and teased-passed-excess hair that was unmistakably Malicia Macawber in nature. She eclipsed the significantly shorter mallard next to her, but there was no mistaking that ketchup-coloured fedora, even with the trench coat over top his (poorly colour coordinated) costume.

“A fiery-felon and my twisted twin, paying a visit to St. Canard’s St. Nick!” Drake exclaimed. “That destructive duo is devising a no-doubt disastrous disturbance, but little do they know they’ve stumbled right into the hands of-”

He backflipped seamlessly from LP’s shoulders and landed behind a potted-plant, only to re-emerge seconds later in full-costume.

“...Darkwiiiiing Duck!” He finished with a flourish of his cape. “C’mon, LP, it’s time to deck their halls!”

***

Malicia hopped back and forth from one gigantic foot to the other. “This is so exciting! Should I ask him for the perfect-fitting pair of designer shoes first, or start off with something a little more conceptual like finding true love while destroying all of Morgana’s hopes, dreams, and aspirations in the process?”

“Yeah how about you stick to something more realistically attainable like world peace or the redistribution of wealth and subsequent collapse of the social class system.” Negaduck continued fiddling with his cellphone until he located the video camera. Perhaps there was some way to stream this live…

“Oh! Look!” She tapped Negaduck on the shoulder -which felt more like being nudged by a jack-hammer-  to redirect his attention. The disgustingly snot-filled brat ahead of them had finished their visit, and it was officially Mal’s turn.

“Now don’t forget the ritual I told you about.” Negaduck coached her. “You have to do it _exactly_ the way I taught you, otherwise the, uh, Christmas magic won’t be as powerful.” Part of him could not believe Malicia was buying all this, but then again this was the same woman who insisted that David Bow-wow-ie was a fairy. Which… in all fairness was not a totally inaccurate statement. Just with a different kind of pixie dust.

“Yes, yes.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You’re forgetting which one of us was trained in the forbidden arts at a prestigious academy for the mystically-inclined! I can handle a simple magic ritual, Negaduck.”

“ _Said the magic school drop-out_.” He muttered just low enough and safely out of grabbing-and-strangling range. Fortunately Mal had already advanced down the red carpet to greet ‘Santa’ and his ornately decorated chair. Negaduck pressed ‘record’ on the camera and chuckled darkly. This was going to be priceless.

‘Santa Claus’ was rifling through a sack of toys and helping himself to another candy cane when he caught sight of the approaching figure from the corner of his eye.

“Hello little one and Merry Christmas! Ho Ho H- **_oh_ ** **.** ” He blanched immediately as the villainess towered over him. With every step she took, he sunk deeper in his chair.

“O’ Powerful Claus, I beseech thee!” Malicia, on bended knee, addressed him. “I, Malicia Macawber, have come to pay my respects so that I may obtain everything I justly desire!” She procured a wreath and placed it around her own neck. “I come to you today in the religious garb of your people and bring with me the required sacrifice.”

The mall santa could only release a  horrified guttural noise when Malicia lay a freshly-decapitated lawn gnome at his feet.

“Now Madame” He raised his hands in an attempt to reason with her. “ I think there may be a misunderstanding here I-”

“And now to complete the ritual I shall place my bodacious booty upon your benevolent loins!” Strange for a centuries-old incantation to include such phrasing, but Negaduck insisted it be recited verbatim.

Santa let out a yelp of protest but it was too late. Malicia made a running jump, landing squarely in his lap with such an impact his eyes bulged several feet from their sockets before rattling back in place. His arms flailed helplessly from somewhere beneath, but sadly the immense weight stifled any audible pleas for mercy.

“I just have a few items of interest, nothing an all-powerful deity surely can’t handle.” Malicia rummaged between her cleavage -because who needs a purse when you’ve got built-in storage - and retrieved a scroll. She cleared her throat as it unfurled and bounced down the length of the red carpet, coming to a rest at Negaduck’s foot.

Negaduck zoomed in on the poor sap’s pained expression. “Bahaha! This is even better than I imagined it! Guess this lame holiday isn’t such a drag after all!” He took a moment to spin the camera around and focused on several small children waiting in line. They were tugging at their parent’s hands and pointing in horror at the unfolding scene. A few of the traumatized tots had even started to wail miserably, which Negaduck considered an acceptable rendition of caroling.

“The only thing about to get dragged is your face!” A voice echoed from somewhere above.

Negaduck groaned as the familiar blue smoke surrounded him. He made a half-baked attempt at fanning it away, lest it obscure the high-definition tears streaming down all those distressed little faces.

“Next I’d like to discuss diamonds and why I need all of them. I’ll start by running through the subcategory of gems before we jump into the tiaras…” Malicia carried on, cheerfully unaware of the newest arrival.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the forced romance that ruins your fanfic! I am Darkwing Duck!” The idiot in question appeared directly beside Negaduck and jabbed a finger in his face.

“I don’t know what you and The Diva of Depravity are up to, Negaduck! But you should know by now that Darkwing Duck never takes a day off, no matter the time of year!” He paused and glanced over at the depravity in question. “But seriously… what _are_ you up to?”

“Why Darkwing.” Negaduck crooned sweetly as he zoomed the camera on Mal and her squash victim, who by now had embedded claw marks into the wooden throne during his desperate attempt at freedom. “I’ve gotten caught up in the holiday spirit and thought it would be nice to help Mal here celebrate her first-ever Christmas. Even I have a heart buried somewhere beneath all these feathers and well-defined pecs.”

“A likely story!” Darkwing spat. Well-defined pecs, _pah!_ But also everything mentioned before that too. “I’m guessing you’re the one behind this little manger scene of horrors!”

“Listen, Dimwit.” Negaduck never took his eyes off the camera. “If I’m gonna be stranded in this pathetic dimension during the most revolting time of the year, the _least_ I can do is callously fool Malicia into murdering this holiday’s hallmark symbol of happiness as several small children look on in horror. _Let me have this_.”

“As if!” Darkwing smacked the camera aside and seized Negaduck by the lapels of his trenchcoat. “The only thing you’ll be getting this season is extended jail time!” He paused and sniffed the air. “Also why do you smell like pudding?”

Negaduck snaked his way out of the coat and kicked Darkwing’s shins, causing the hero to fall flat on his back. “Why do you smell like total failure?” He snarled during his retreat.

“Uh, DW, I hate to interrupt.” Launchpad hovered above the hero. “But Santa has gone from rosy-cheeked to completely blue-faced! Maybe we oughtta do something or Christmas will be canceled this year and every other year after!”

DW grunted in response. LP was right (about the deadly time frame; Darkwing didn’t have the heart to tell his friend the cold-hard truth about Santa’s existence or lack thereof). He rolled across the ground, and just in the nick of time too because Negaduck had seized the antlers off a reindeer display and was about to skewer the crimefighter.  

“All right, new game plan.” He instructed Launchpad. “We have to move that deranged duckubus off of Santa, stat! Unfortunately, there does not appear to be a crane large enough for such a feat, so we’ll just have to bring _her_ to us.” He dodged another swipe from Negaduck.

“Gee, how do you suppose we do that? She hasn’t even noticed we’re here!”

“ _Au contraire_ my friend. We just need to give Malicia the right motivation to move! Luckily, Negs and his festive fraudulence has given me an idea…”

***

“Well.” Malicia sighed. “We’re getting near the end of the list but this one is really important, so listen carefully!”

The flattened figure beneath the she-demon nodded weakly, having resigned himself to his untimely fate. On the whole, probably not the worst way to go, but he would’ve preferred to depart the mortal realm in something less humiliating than a fake beard and fat-suit.

“I want my family to adore me.” She said plainly. “Not that I actually care about them or what they think, of course!” She added hastily. “But they should be _begging_ my forgiveness after turning their backs on me. Especially my cousin, Morgana… she’s such a smug wench. But they all act like she’s just _soooo_ perfect and _soooo_ worthy of their admiration. You can do that, can’t you? I know you deal more in material possessions but I’m sure we could broker a deal-”

“Uh, sorry for interrupting.” A voice cut her off. “But I have, uh, important… Christmas business to tell ya..”

“Yes you _should_ be sorry, it’s incredibly rude to disrupt a ritual.” Malicia glared levelly at the newcomer and gestured him forward with a careless hand-wave. “What do you want?”

Launchpad, dressed head to toe in a green elf costume and long curled slippers, smiled nervously. “Me? Well I’m the Christmas Elf! I’m the one who delivers all the stuff on your list!”

“Oh?” Malicia narrowed her eyes. “Negaduck never mentioned any elven folk…”

“Must’ve slipped his mind? Santa can’t grant all these wishes alone!” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “You just gotta follow me to our workshop ‘round the corner and we’ll get that list sorted real quick...”

“Hmm… I suppose that’s logical.” Malicia glanced back at Santa, who was nodding eagerly in agreement with this idea. “Very well then, take me to my well-earned gifts, Ginger Elf Slave.”

“Er, we prefer the term ‘Santa’s little helpers’, eh-heh…”

***

“I’m getting real sick of your merry meddling!” Negaduck leaned forward so he could meet Darkwing eye to masked eye. The two mallards had continued their tussle during Launchpad’s absence, and Negaduck had trapped the crimefighter in a tangled web of Christmas lights. “But no matter, because I have a delightfully festive fate planned for you!”

“Gee, I’m so excited, I don’t think I can wait till Christmas morning.” Darkwing mocked his double and wriggled in his restraints. Where were those buzz-saw cuff links when you needed them...

“Neither can I! Now then...” The sharpened point of a giant candy cane was pressed against Darkwing’s jugular. “I think I might film this too. We’ll have an entire segment of precious memories to look back on by the time this farce is finished! Well, _I’ll_ be looking back on them, at any rate. Your corpse will be as stale as next year’s fruit cake!”

“Y’know, you still haven’t explained why you smell like pudding.”

“ **Shut up!** ” Negaduck drew the deadly (but also deliciously minty) weapon across Darkwing’s face. He fumbled in his pocket and retrieved the phone again and hit record. “Any final words before I turn you into the world’s merriest pin cushion?”

Darkwing grinned. “Yeah… _Feliz Navidad, Negsy_.”

“What are y-- **gwah!** ” Negaduck had no time to react when the sleigh crashed into him, and continued its journey right through the second-story mall window and out toward the Audobon bay, carrying Negaduck with it. For one glorious moment the sleigh took to the sky, and the maniacal crook’s silhouette passed through the moonlight as he clung for dear life. Then, for the second time that evening, Negaduck found himself colliding back to Earth against his own will.

There was no freshly-fallen snow to catch his fall this time. Both he and the sleigh hit the frozen bay with a crash, causing both Negaduck - and the pile of gifts brought along for the ride - to scatter across the ice. Negaduck rolled a few feet with several grunts until he finally slid to a full stop.

“Hrrgh…” He groaned. “I’ll take this over the pudding, _I guess._ ”

Perhaps spoken to soon. He registered several creaking noises before he noticed the fractures growing around him.

“Oh for the loathe of-” **Crack**.

The ice collapsed and Negaduck plunged into the freezing depths of the bay.

Back at the mall, Malicia was peering through the sleigh-shaped hole in the window. “My gifts!” She shrieked and dived outside, sprinting for the bay at a surprisingly fast speed for someone wearing 6-inch heels. “Hold on my little shinies, mama Mal is coming!”

“Smooth move, LP!” Darkwing finished untangling the last of the lights from his waist.

Launchpad grinned. “You can thank, Malicia. She was putting all the gifts on Santa’s sleigh and thought it was some sorta ‘Christmas tradition’ to give it a good running push and make it fly! Boy, she’s gonna be mad when she finds out those were just empty boxes from the mall display…”

“Yeesh.” Darkwing turned to leave. “But on the bright side…” He picked up the cellphone Negaduck dropped during his involuntary takeoff.

“Looks like Negsy got those ‘precious moments’ he wanted, including his own. A shame for him to miss out, I’ll just go ahead and upload it to DuckTube for him. Y’know, out of the kindness of my heart.” He winked at his sidekick.

Launchpad furrowed his brows. “I hope Santa’s okay, though. What if he’s too injured to make his trip across the world tonight?”

Darkwing glanced  back at the mall santa display, where paramedics were using a bicycle pump to de-flatten a not-so-jolly-looking St. Nick.

“Eh, don’t sweat it LP. Christmas is all about unexpected miracles, after all.”

 

* * *

 _Author’s note:_ We’re nearing the end of this story, and frankly I’m impressed I managed to actually see this through. I’ve never written a fully completed story… ever. At any point in my life. Who knew torturing Negaduck was the motivation I needed?

Also I promise Malicia is (mostly) not normally this gullible. When you're raised in a society with sentient blob creatures and forbidden magic libraries, it's pretty easy to buy into outlandish Christmas rituals and overtly-generous elves. This story takes place during her first year in St. Canard, and she has only met Negaduck a small handful of times, making her more susceptible to his deception. 


	6. Negaduck Discovers the Benefits and Drawbacks to Hypothermia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter wherein the tags for this fic become relevant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are, the final stretch! This entire chapter is just pure shameless shipping fuel, fyi (there's a reason I tagged it that way!) Nothing explicit, just lots of suggestive Negaduck narration. Enjoy!

The last thing he could recall was the cracking of the ice, the biting chill of the water, and then… darkness.

It enveloped him like a blanket, pulling him into a void he’d hoped to never see again. Shock subsided and gave way to a primal fear. His arms churned the water as he desperately sought something - anything - to cling to, but only found the pitch blackness of icy water. It was like being plunged into the depths of Oblivion all over again, with a sense of dread that would gradually give way to madness. His lungs burned for air, and his fingers clawed desperately at the watery void, but his body grew numb and soon he gave in to death’s smothering embrace.

Huh, death’s smothering embrace sure feels a lot like boobs.

Given that Negaduck was most certainly not heading anywhere pleasant in the afterlife, he could safely conclude that he was, as a matter of fact, still very much alive and still very much clutching two handfuls of voluptuous plumage.  

**_Whack!_ **

“ **Ow!** F-f-for the loathe of…” The darkness around his peripheral vision retreated as the blurry mass in front of him slowly took the form of one irate Malicia Macawber. Which certainly explained why it felt like he’d just been slapped by a hot poker.

“Watch where you put those things, who knows where they’ve been.” Snapped the villainness as she swatted his hands away.

“N-n-now Mal… that’s n-n-no way to… t-t-talk about your only r-r-r-edeeming q-q-quality.” Scathing remarks certainly held less of an impact through chattering teeth but he wasn’t going to let a little thing like severe hypothermia keep him from trying.

“I’m going to pretend that was a ‘ _thank you for pulling my pathetic frozen hide from the bay, oh beautiful and graceful one’,_ unless you were hoping to spend your final remaining moments as a ducksicle.” A response which made Negaduck add ‘delusional’ to his list of Malicia Macawber shortcomings.

He took a moment to survey his surroundings. It seemed she had brought him back to the Fearsome Five’s hideout in the bad side of town. Judging by the large mallet she was holding, the crushed ice around his feet, and the sudden headache that was threatening to split his brain in two, it was also safe to assume Mal had chosen the ‘quick and dirty’ defrosting method.

“F-f-feels like I just got groped by Isis Vanderchill.” He scooched toward the sizzling heat of the fireplace to warm his hands, which were blue along with the rest of his body.

Wait, a sizzling fireplace?

Negaduck spun around to glare at his would-be rescuer. “You lit the fireplace?! Now the whole damn neighborhood is going to notice something suspicious and bring in the cops! Are you naturally this stupid or have you honed your craft with years of practice?”

“Oh, _please_. The people in this city can’t even recognize you in a trenchcoat, what makes you think they’d be observant enough to worry about a bit of chimney smoke? Besides, everyone is too preoccupied with holiday dinners and parties to care what’s happening in some decrepit old building.”

That was… a pretty good point, actually.

Quickly! Deflect with a backhanded compliment!

“That’s probably the smartest thing you’ve said all night, and in general. Guess you’re not as dumb as you look, Mal.” _Nailed it_.

“You’re one to talk, O’ Generous Deliverer of the Fruitcakes.” She sneered. “Was that also part of your little scheme to ruin Chrissmus? I figured out you were just using me for your stupid holiday-wrecking plan, so don’t even deny it!”

“The hell would I deny that for? Of course I was using you! Not that I even needed to _try,_ you made it pretty damn easy. I mean really, ‘God of Material Possessions’? Where’d you manage to pull that one from? Probably the same place you’re stashing the other half of your brain!” Now that he was feeling sufficiently warm enough to dole out the endless insults, Negaduck took a moment to stretch his sore limbs.

Then he felt it. The itching sensation spreading across his body. Almost like he was wearing…

“ **GAH**.” He clawed at the knitted material attached to his body, struggling to get it off. “You put the damn sweater on me?! Getting your revenge while I was out cold, eh? Not a bad attempt, but you’ll have to do better than that to get the drop on Public Enemy Number One!”

Mal blinked in confusion as she watched him hop around the room like he was dancing across hot coals. “Your costume was as stiff as an inappropriate metaphor! … and also covered in pudding for some reason. Besides, I think it’s a rather charming little shirt.”

“ **Charming?** ” He screeched as he attempted to wrestle his arm free from the sleeve. “ _Charming_ is effortlessly annihilating the entire National Guard with only three toothpicks and a sponge! This-” He balanced precariously on one webbed foot and nearly toppled into the fireplace. “-Is just pure evil wrapped in a deceptively snuggly form!”

“Sounds like it suits you perfectly then.” She sneered. “Besides, if you hate it so much, why’s it even in your hideout?”

“Because as usual, those four morons exist to torment me.” He made one last attempt at trying to shake the sweater free. “Megavolt’s freak-producing mother made it or something.”

“Sheila knitted it for you? Oh, I should’ve known, that is so totally her brand!”

Negaduck stopped dead in his eternal sweater struggle, if only to stare at Mal in bewilderment. “Does every geek in this city know Megavolt’s mom?”

“Of course! She baked me a whole basket of these delightful little baked goods called ‘apple strudels’ when she heard I never tasted one before an-”

“Yeah I don’t actually care that much” He snapped impatiently. “Now get your pastry-packing  pie-hole over here and help me get this abomination off. I think it might be trying to merge with my body like some kinda space-alien slime.”

“My my, someone’s eager to get all his clothes off...” He heard her purr from somewhere behind him. He stiffened at the sensation of a single claw trailing down the small of his back, and the incredible warmth of her body as she pressed against him. Negaduck felt goosebumps rising beneath his feathers, and it wasn’t because of the scratchy wool.

“You insufferable wench.” He rumbled darkly. “You think you can tease me?”

“Oh, I _know_ I can.” That was definitely not two pillows currently cushioning his sore spine. “And I also know that-”

She pulled away suddenly, causing Negaduck - who had unwittingly leaned into her body - to flop backwards onto the cold, hard surface.

“- I don’t need to help you with squat.” She finished with a smug expression. Or what he imagined was probably a smug expression, hard to tell from his position on the floor where her face was completely obscured by her not-pillows.

“Pah! I can figure it out myself. Now if you’re finished playing coy you’re free to go-” He dismissed her with a wave. “-back to gnawing on boiled testicles in a moonlit grove or whatever it is you Macawber chicks do in your spare time.”

“Don’t be so ignorant.” She rebuked him. “The Feast of a Thousand Gonads is reserved exclusively for the Summer season.” And truly, Negaduck could not tell if that was sarcasm.  

He gave up on removing the sweater and also arguing with his gonad-consuming guest in favor of grabbing a bite to eat. A full night’s misery-making was enough to work up an (un)healthy appetite, even if the sickly sweet scent of pudding and fruitcake lingered in the air, making his gut churn with revulsion. There wasn’t a whole lot to eat around this dump, and the absence of electricity meant whatever passed as edible would not be particularly appetizing. But Negaduck didn’t have much of a refined palate to begin with so he wasn’t terribly disappointed when his search efforts rewarded him with a meagre tin of sardines and what may have once passed for a jar of olives at some point in time. The Christmas meal of champions.

“You’re really going to eat that?” Malicia had suddenly appeared behind him, catching him with enough surprise that he dropped the jar. It smashed open, sending bits of glass and murky brine across the floor.

“You’re still here?” His eyes narrowed into tiny slits behind his black mask. “What’s the matter, got nobody else to spend your precious first ‘Chrissmus’ with?”

“I’m perfectly fine with being completely alone!” Her face reddened and Negaduck could not help but notice the erratic twitch in her tail. “I’m just waiting for the winter storm outside to die down, I can’t let that frosty wind ruin my hair.”

“Uh huh.” He made no effort to mask his doubt. “Tell you what, you get this entire dump warmed up and maybe I’ll reconsider kicking your fat butt to the curb.”

“It’s called a perfect poste-”

“Don’t you start with that again!”

“Oh, right. I suppose you consider it more of a… what were the words? Bodacious booty?”

That earned a laugh from him. Not because Mal was actually funny- perish the thought- but because he was replaying the entire mall santa incident in his mind. Speaking of, where was that damned phone of his…  

“I’ll have to hand it to you Mal, you’ve got some _killer_ curves. You give a whole new definition to the term _body_ count.” He chuckled at his own wit. Ah, puns… they never get old.

Malicia didn’t seem to agree, if her indignant ‘hmph!’ was any indication. She spun on her designer-heels and stormed across the room to hopefully do something actually useful for once in her life. Negaduck’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before returning his attention to the mess on the floor. He plucked one of the withered pits from the floor and popped it in his mouth with a shrug. The five-second rule is for chumps.

He caught a flash of yellow in the corner of his eye and turned to see his jacket laid out on the table. Mal wasn’t kidding, his stylish (and remarkably colour-coordinated) costume was as stiff as cardboard (see, he could find an actual metaphor unlike _some_ uncreative ducks). Negaduck scowled as he picked up the flattened jacket.

“Hey Mount Fussmore!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Did you find my phone while you were copping a feel of my muscular physique? I want to relive those precious moments.” A pause to clarify. “The mall stuff, specifically.” Although he wasn’t opposed to the former…

“Yeah, about that…” Even from across the room he could spy just a hint of a smile from her, which meant he was about to be terribly disappointed for the zillionth time this evening.

“Well?” Impatience edging into his already-agitated voice. Mal beckoned for him to join her by the fireplace where she presented him with her own (hideously bedazzled) phone.

“It would seem.” She held the tacky device just out of Negaduck’s reach. “That some footage made it to the Internet.”

“And?” He did not like where this was going.

“Well the good news.” She began. “Is that everyone will probably forget about your charitable acts of Christmas kindness once they see this.”

“Don’t waste my time with overdoné cliches, just spit it out already!”

“Someone posted a video of you getting smushed by that sleigh and it has spread across the Internet like wildfire.” She finished succinctly before diverting her attention to the screen again. “Oh look! Someone made a delightful little animated graphic and added ironic text unrelated to the actual events occurring within!”

“Give me that.” He swiped the phone from her claws. Sure enough, there was Negaduck, ready to shank Darkwing Duck candyland style. Someone had affixed a label over top Negaduck that read ‘my sanity’. Then the sleigh, labeled ‘life’s obligations’ collided with him and carried him away.

“ **WHAT**.” He barked. “Nobody turns Negaduck into a delightfully relatable meme made for millennial consumption!”

“Well they already did so-”

“ **I KNOW THAT!** ” He rounded on her, his rage building. “So Malicia, care to tell me _why_ I was clotheslined by a runaway sleigh? Because it’d take a _freaky_ amount of strength for an object _that_ big and _that_ heavy to move at high velocity...” With every lunging step he made toward her, Mal inched in the opposite direction, until her back was pressed against the wall and she had nowhere to go.

“I-I can’t imagine how.” _Flick flick flick_ went her tail, so fast it fanned the flames in the hearth beside them. “Truly just another one of life’s great mysterie- **EEES**!” She ducked the tin of sardines lobbed in her direction.

To say Negaduck was furious may have been an understatement. The steam rising off his body melted the remaining bits of ice left behind from his quick thaw. “You hot-aired hussy, this is all your fault!”

“Listen” Said she, the one foolish enough to think Negaduck could be reasoned with. “I know this looks bad but when you think about it, you’ve already failed so astronomically with everything else tonight, so one small humiliating video barely makes a difference!”

“You.” He twitched. “Really need to stop talking.”

“Why am I even defending myself?” Her fear was replaced by indignant anger and she pointed an accusatory claw in his face. “You were the one who tricked _me_ by lying about all that holiday ritual nonsense! And you know what, Negaduck?” She prodded him sharply in the chest. “I’m starting to think there isn’t even such a thing as a Flying Spaghetti Monster!”

“About as real as the rest of ‘em, really.” He was finding it surprisingly difficult to remain angry in the wake of such profound stupidity. How was this the same villain who terrorized her way to the near-top of the Public Enemy list?

“I’m not as stupid as you think I am.” She said as if reading his mind, or perhaps because he’d spent the previous five pages using every adjective in the thesaurus to insult her intelligence.

“You really don’t want to know what I’m thinking.” He had intended for that to sound ominous and threatening but the natural rumble of his voice only served to deepen the redness in her cheeks, and she squirmed uncomfortably under his half-lidded gaze. Negaduck certainly didn’t need to read _her_ mind to know what she was thinking. He had to admit, he enjoyed getting a rise out of her. She was a devastatingly dangerous creature and there was something kind of hot about a woman who could slit a man’s throat with her toes.

“I’ve only been living among Normals for less than a year. I’ve always found your culture to be rather bizarre but the holidays are even more confusing.” She seated herself next to the fireplace and Negaduck found his eyes roaming every curve of her body as she stretched languidly. “Normally your kind are very close-minded about the supernatural, but now suddenly you’re all talking about flying reindeers and ‘Chrissmus magic’. How am I supposed to know the difference between real and fake?”

“Huh? What’s real and fake now?” Negaduck was preoccupied with shamelessly ogling two somethings that years of experience could conclude were very real.

Mal must’ve taken notice if her next statement was any indication. “You know it’s a lot warmer over here.” She patted the spot next to her. “Wouldn’t want to catch pneumonia from your little adventure in the bay, now would you?”

His initial instinct was to once again remind her exactly _how_ he ended up in the bay, but his legs had a different plan in mind because he was already sidling up next to her. He seated himself just close enough that he could feel the heat rising from her unnaturally-warm body, but with enough distance between them to remind her that the black-hearted scoundrel known as Negaduck Does Not Do Cuddling.

“If I’m being honest.” Mal’s claws traced the floor in circular motions. “I still sort of had fun at the mall… we should do an official villainous team-up sometime. I promise it won’t end with your body in a giant block of ice, probably.” She seemed to be watching him closely now, as if gauging his reaction. A bold move from someone who had disappointed him all evening with her poor performance.

“Yeah sure, why not.” He shrugged. “If I can wrangle four brain-dead mutants into acting like a near-cohesive team, then I’ll have no problem controlling just one brain-dead mutant.” That was hands-down the most amiable response one could receive from the likes of Negaduck.

Mal must have realized this because she didn’t press the point further. “Speaking of, where are they? You didn’t actually give them a night off to celebrate, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t! Those pathetic saps made a break for it because they wanted to spend time with their precious _families_.” That final word was spat so literally that Mal instinctively shielded her face.

“Oh.” She seemed to falter for a moment. “I see now. Chrissmus is meant to be a family thing.” There goes her tail again, twitching erratically like a tasered cockroach.

“It’s just a bunch of sappy fake made-up garbage, Mal.” Not that he was trying to reassure her or anything, just laying out the facts here. “Think about it, would _you_ want to spend an evening dining with Morgana and the rest of your botched genes?”

She physically recoiled with disgust. “Sweet Hades no, I’d rather watch Jumbalaya Jake do a striptease before I'd ever choke down Morgana’s cooking!”

“Mal, that was not a mental image I ever asked for nor needed in my life, I hate you.”

“I think I hate me too!” She threw back her head with laughter and Negaduck couldn’t help but notice how much her hair resembled true hellfire when it swished and bounced with every movement her body made. He imagined the wavy tresses melting flesh from bone and scorching any fool who wandered too close. Was there any part of this woman that wasn't lethal? Perhaps it was time to investigate, first-hand... you know, purely in the name of evil. 

“Well now I definitely need to burn all C-List supervillain things from my brain by burning a few brain cells. Allow me to introduce you to a bona fide holiday tradition known as ‘getting blitzed on Egg Nog’.” He’d stashed away enough of the stuff to get him through the seasonal months and then some.

Malicia narrowed her eyes. “You better not be yanking my tail again or I’ll melt that sweater right into your flesh.”

“Nah, this’ll be more fun than a dingo in a daycare. Besides, I just had a brilliant idea and I think you’re the fire-breathing babe for the job…”

 

***

 

“See? What’d I tell ya. Isn’t this _way_ better than Christmas carols and cookie baking?” Negaduck took another swig from the bottle and swayed slightly on the sidewalk as he stood back to admire the most beautiful sight he’d witnessed all evening.

Mal, with two bottles in each hand, was chugging back the unholy concoction of eggnog, rum, and gunpowder (because this was a Negaduck-brand recipe) at a rate that impressed even him. She took a moment to daintily wipe the residue from her bill before pitching both bottles into the raging inferno, causing another explosion that scattered glass shards in every direction.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to attract the cops. I suspect a giant flaming tree could warrant some attention.” Mal teased as she leaned into him.

“Totally worth it.” His hand snaked itself around her waist absentmindedly. “I was getting sick of that bedecked eyesore blocking my view of the club. I tell ya Mal, there’s nothing quite like the sound of two strippers slap-fighting over the last cigarette. Puts me to sleep at night.”

“Yeah?” She said breathily, leaning in so close he could smell the intoxicating mixture of liquor and gunpowder. “What else helps you sleep at night?”

Negaduck tickled the underside of her chin playfully and ran his thumb over one of her needle-sharp fangs. “I can think of a few things. Now, seeing as I’m still _clearly_ at risk for severe hypothermia, and _you_ are to blame, I think it’s only fair you keep me warm tonight.”

“Well I _suppose_ if I must.” She pretended to pout. “And I _suppose_ I should help you out of that sweater, too. As long as you don’t deceive me into sitting in anyone else’s lap.”

“I make no promises, sweetfangs.” He took her by the small of her waist and steered her back inside. He paused only momentarily so he could catch one last glimpse of the burning Christmas tree. As he smirked to himself, Negaduck decided that this was not the worst way to spend Christmas Eve, even if his evil scheme had not gone entirely as planned.

Besides, there’s always New Years.  

 

* * *

 

 _Author’s note:_ Aaaand that’s all folks! Thanks for reading (all three of you who made it this far). Not the most fabulous thing I’ve ever written but it was fun! Especially when it’s Negaduck’s point of view, he’s always a hoot to write.

This chapter was originally meant to be even longer. I had several scenes I wanted to include, but Negs was fighting me on them because they were exceptionally fluffy. Sometimes you just have to let the characters steer the story instead (which apparently means at least four boob jokes in a single chapter).

At some point I hope to actually include a few illustrations for the story, so while it’s marked as ‘complete’ I may update it eventually!

Thank you to everyone who has left comments! If you ever want to chat all things Darkwing-related, I’m over on tumblr @mistress-negs and pillowfort as @negaduck. Come say hello!


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